


All the More Sweeter When Shared

by virdant



Category: Glee
Genre: Conversations, Dessert & Sweets, Established Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Food, Forgiveness, Friendship/Love, Gen, Macarons, Post-Episode: s03e14 On My Way, Season/Series 03, from Laduree, which are the best macarons I have ever eaten--personally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant
Summary: “These are macarons from Paris.”“From Laduree, specifically. Do you have any idea what Champs-Elysees is like? Not to mention the line was ridiculous. I thought I was going to miss my flight.”“Wow,” Blaine drawled. “Poor you.”One day in April, months after Regionals, Sebastian gives a gift to Blaine.





	All the More Sweeter When Shared

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kinokodon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinokodon/gifts).



> This week has been pretty terrible, and it's left me unable to work on any of my actual projects because writing about death or death-related content is just a terrible mess at the moment. I asked the chat for a happy prompt and Mikachi suggested macarons from Laduree, and, well, I sat down last night and typed this up. Set during Season 3, sometime after _On My Way_.
> 
> Title from quote: "good food is all the more sweeter when shared with friends" (attributed to unknown).

From the moment he tasted it, he was in love.

The wafers were crisp, the faintest hint of almond bleeding through the rich taste of fresh vanilla, the jam filling sweet and tangy on the tongue. Blaine couldn’t help but close his eyes even as he struggled to catch the crumbs with his free hand, reluctant to lose a single taste. He inhaled, sharply, and opened his eyes to Sebastian Smythe, smug, still holding the open box of macarons before him.

“Good, isn’t it?” He smirked. “I bought them from Laduree a few hours before I left Paris.”

“I’m amazed you didn’t eat them all while you were flying,” Blaine mustered, nibbling to keep himself from swallowing the macaron too quickly. The flavor was sweet without being cloying, leaving hooks in his tastebuds. He would never be able to eat an American-baked macaron again. “Or that you didn’t gain ten pounds, with these around.”

“The croissants are far more dangerous than macarons.” He slid the box across the small table. “These, you know what you’re getting into. The croissants seem like nice healthy choices for breakfast, before you realize they’re entirely butter. Delicious, though.”

“Sounds like it,” he murmured. He forwent dignity and licked the crumbs off of his fingers, eying the box greedily. 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You can have more.”

“Are you bribing me?” Blaine raised a brow back. “Penance for throwing a slushie in my eye?”

“Is it working?”

He picked up another one, as red as the slushie Sebastian had thrown at him. He inhaled deeply, before taking a bite. Raspberry. 

Blaine chewed, swallowed, and said, “I’m with Kurt.”

“I know.” 

“These are macarons from Paris.”

“From Laduree, specifically. Do you have any idea what Champs-Elysees is like? Not to mention the line was ridiculous. I thought I was going to miss my flight.”

“Wow,” Blaine drawled. “Poor you.”

“It really was terrible.” He leaned on the back legs of his chair; Blaine had his doubts about the structural integrity of most of the furniture in the Lima Bean, but Sebastian didn’t seem to share his feelings. “ _Tourists_.”

“You’re American,” Blaine pointed out. He took another crisp bite of the sweet raspberry macaron, inhaling the scent of almonds. “Don’t you count as a tourist?”

Sebastian scowled. 

Blaine grinned back, before finishing the macaron he had in hand. There had been a dozen, neatly packaged so they wouldn’t be crushed in the journey across the Atlantic. He could probably eat all of them, despite his New Year’s resolution to exercise more, cut snacks, and do his homework promptly instead of procrastinating, even if McKinley’s curriculum was less rigorous than Dalton’s.

“They’re yours,” Sebastian said. “Think of it as a belated Christmas gift, if it makes you feel better.”

“You got me a Christmas gift.” It had been a signed photo of himself, shirtless, with abs that Blaine suspected photoshop had gotten a hold of. He had rolled his eyes at Sebastian’s gall and tossed it into a desk drawer lest Kurt find it. It was probably still there, featuring Sebastian in all his airbrushed glory.

He shrugged. 

“These are macarons from _Paris_.” Blaine pointed out. He didn’t eat another one, even though the open box was a heady temptation. “What’s your motive, Sebastian?”

“Merry Christmas,” Sebastian drawled. 

“It’s April.”

He rolled his eyes. “So maybe it’s a bribe.”

“I’m not breaking up with Kurt.”

“Wasn’t going to ask you to.” He nodded towards the macarons. “I got you a whole dozen. Enough for you to share, if you wanted to.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“Look, Blaine,” he leaned forward, and Blaine didn’t draw back. “Maybe it’s a bribe. Maybe it’s a gift. Either way, it’s yours, alright?”

He eyed the box suspiciously, before leveraging his gaze at Sebastian—earnest, solemn. “What do you want?”

Sebastian said, “Mind if I have one?”

“You bought them.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Mind if I have one?” he asked again, more pointedly.

Blaine stared at the box, and then looked up to meet Sebastian’s steady gaze. He was very serious, no longer smirking. He had been serious since Karofsky’s attempted suicide, since his apology, since Regionals, but Blaine hadn’t found himself in prolonged contact to confirm if this new sincerity would last.

Sebastian waited, palm open, and Blaine lifted a macaron from the box to set it gently on Sebastian’s fingertips.

He didn’t let go, holding it perched on the tips of Sebastian’s fingers.

“I really liked hanging out with you,” Blaine said, finally, letting the cream macaron slide into Sebastian’s palm.

Sebastian raised it to his mouth, eyes never leaving Blaine’s. He chewed, swallowed, and said, “You’re the only guy worth spending time with here, Blaine.”

The words were a dry echo in his mouth. “I’m with Kurt.”

Sebastian took another bite. “I know.” He stared at the last bite of macaron. “You’ve said. Multiple times.”

“Then what is this?”

He popped it into his mouth, chewing with decided bites. “What do you think it is?”

Blaine took another from the box, and offered it to Sebastian. He took it, and waited while Blaine took one for himself. Neither of them looked away as they ate one macaron, and then another, chewing in quiet harmony. There were just under a half-dozen when they stopped. Blaine stared down at them, brightly colored, intact even after a flight across the Atlantic.

Sebastian didn’t move as Blaine covered the box and stood. He just watched, something like a smile lingering in the corners of his mouth.

“I forgive you,” Blaine said. “I forgave you months ago. I _liked_ you.”

“I know,” Sebastian replied, and he didn’t say anything glib, even though he must have had a response on the tip of the tongue. Instead, he said, achingly sincere, “I still do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. You can find me as virdant on [tumblr](https://virdant.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/virdant). Kudos and comments are appreciated, of course.


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